Peacock's Walk (3 page)

He gave her a long speculative look. Tony was more than an employee to her, and Mark knew it. He shrugged offhandedly. 'He must be due for retirement,' he said dryly, but it told Jenny all she wanted to know. His answer had given her her answer.

She looked down at her hands and was a little surprised to find them tightly clenched together. 'I'm sorry,' she replied in a low voice, `I'm afraid there's no point in our going on with this discussion. I said all the staff, and I meant it.' She stood up quickly to indicate that the interview was over.

He took his time in standing up, and his hard jaw showed his fury at being dismissed so perfunctorily. `Because of Tony?' he grated out harshly. 'No wonder the place is dying on its feet! You might have

been a good secretary, but you've no idea how to run an hotel. Business and sentiment do not mix, Miss Grange.' He walked to the door and paused before he opened it. 'You'll find it hard to get a buyer on those stipulations,' he added furiously, `and don't,' he flung back at her before he left, 'take too long in changing your mind, will you? or I might just leave you to stew in the financial mess you've made of things I '

It took a few minutes for Jenny to pull herself together after Mark had left, and the arrival of the coffee tray came as a much needed stimulant. To her annoyance, she found she was actually trembling, and had to make a firm effort to control her hand as she poured herself a cup of steaming hot liquid. How could she have ever thought she was in love with such a man? she asked herself incredulously, and decided that she had had an extremely narrow escape when he had thrown her over. It would have been like being married to a computer. Statistics were all he was interested in. Little things like understanding and trust simply did not exist in his world. No, he hadn't changed one bit; he was still the same man who hadn't even bothered to give her a hearing when she had tried to explain her relationship with Malcolm.

As for changing her mind—Jenny's cup joined the saucer with a dull clink—she wouldn't dream of it! She would sell Peacock's Walk—she hadn't any option now. Mark Chanter must have been pretty sure of his ground to have added that loaded rider about the financial state of the hotel. He had prob-

ably heard of the collapse of the travel agency from the same source that had given him the rest of his information, but that didn't matter now. One thing she did know, and that was that Chanter Enterprises would not own Peacock's Walk, come what may. She would even be prepared to sell at a loss rather than see it go to Mark Chanter!

BY the time Jenny had finished her coffee, Tony had joined her, and as she had been expecting him, she took an extra cup out of her filing cabinet, one that she kept for such occasions, and poured him some coffee.

'He made an offer?' asked Tony seating himself on the corner of her desk and accepting the cup she held out to him.

Jenny nodded, and concentrated on squeezing the remains of the coffee pot into her cup.

'And he wants you out?' persisted Tony, determined to hear all of it.

'All of the staff—or rather the older ones,' she corrected slowly. 'I said no,' she looked up at the frowning Tony. 'It doesn't matter about me, but I do owe the staff something after all these years with the firm. I simply refuse to sell unless they are kept on.'

She was silent for a short while, then said suddenly, 'We'll advertise, Tony. You were right—we can't keep going much longer without capital.' She gave a sigh. 'It might have been possible if the travel agency hadn't collapsed. I'm still waiting to hear

from the solicitor about the final settlement.'

Tony nodded gloomily. 'Any idea of how much you still owe?' he asked sympathetically.

Jenny gave a light shrug of her slim shoulders as she answered dryly, 'All I know is that if it's over five thousand, then I shall have to sell to clear it.'

Putting his cup down heavily on the desk, Tony replied briskly, 'Right, so we advertise. No point in prolonging the agony.' He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'You know, it might be a bit of a job getting someone to take it under those conditions.'

Jenny's eyes left his and she concentrated on the coffee jug. 'So Mark Chanter just told me,' she said quietly. 'But it won't stop me trying.' She went on in a firmer voice, 'You never know, we might be lucky and get some tycoon who doesn't have a clue about hotel management, but fancies owning one. And it's not as if we were stuck in some high street,' she added on a brighter note. 'We've an acre of grounds, remember, and that makes the place quite exclusive.'

'Which is why Chanter wanted it?' said Tony, darting a quick speculative look at Jenny.

She frowned at him but refused to rise to the bait and discuss old scores. 'It might have been,' she conceded. 'Either way, it doesn't matter now. He's out of it.' The last words were said with a great deal of emphasis and Tony's brows raised, but he wisely did not comment.

When Tony left her a short while later, Jenny set about wording out the advertisement that was to go in all the leading monthly journals that catered for

such transactions, not forgetting their American counterparts, because she was convinced that she would be successful in acquiring the right buyer. It wasn't, she told herself brightly, as if the older staff were in their dotage, although Mark Chanter had hinted as much. They were all in their late fifties, it was true, apart from Tony that was, and still had a few years of good service left.

A little later, Jenny stared at the carefully worded advertisement that stated that a select hotel standing in one acre of wooded grounds was up for sale, and experienced a feeling of utter desolation. Seeing the cold impersonal words brought home the full implication of what she was doing. She had never imagined such a happening coming to pass, and had tried to hold off the inevitable for months now, hoping against hope that something might be salvaged out of the wreckage, and it might have done, if Malcolm hadn't had a whim to start that agency. He wasn't to know, of course, that it would fail. He hadn't known that Mark Chanter would invade their territory either, giving the already crippled hotel a final blow that was impossible to recover from.

Shaking these thoughts away, she tried to regain her earlier optimistic outlook, but was soon cast down into the depths again at the thought of her next step. She must inform the staff of her decision to sell. It wouldn't do for them to find out about it in a roundabout manner. At the thought of Rose, she sighed heavily; no doubt she was busy putting two and two together, and would soon be dropping

a few heavy hints to whoever cared to listen to her.

Taking a deep breath, she rang reception and asked Rose to contact Mrs Hooney, and ask her to call and see her when she had a few minutes to spare,

Mrs Hooney, a stout motherly woman, who had worked at Peacock's Walk almost as long as Tony had, walked into Jenny's office a short while later, and pulling down her starched cuffs over her uniform sleeves, she smiled at Jenny. 'You wanted to see me, hinny?'

Jenny swallowed at her use of an old endearment. Dodie Hooney wasn't an employee either, not in the strict sense of the word, for she had been one of the few who had 'mothered' her, all those years ago.

'Sit down, Dodie,' Jenny said gently. 'I've some news for you that won't be very welcome, I'm afraid.' She swallowed again; might as well get it over with, she thought miserably. 'I'm having to sell the hotel,' she got out quickly as her worried eyes met the brown ones of the older woman.

Dorothy Hooney, or Dodie, as Jenny had called her since her babyhood, not being able to pronounce her name properly, gave Jenny a reassuring smile. 'Reckon you hadn't much choice, lass,' she said quietly, leaning forward towards her as if to offer comfort. 'Don't worry about us older ones. We'll be retiring soon anyway, and I'm sure most of us have a bit put away. It's you we're worried about.' She sniffed. 'I overheard that. Rose talking to Thomas this morning. Seems she's got it all worked out. Said Mark Chanter was taking over,'

she gave Jenny a searching look. 'I said he'd be the last person you'd sell to.' She hesitated a second or so, and Jenny knew she was not stating an opinion but asking a question, and was devoutly grateful that she could support her supposition, and gave a small nod that received a satisfied look from Dodie, who went on in a brisker fashion to say,

`Told them so, but they wouldn't listen. Not the young ones anyway. Us older staff know how it was,' she added darkly, then gave a wry grin. 'Happen they've a disappointment coming. You should have seen the way that new chambermaid and the girl we took on to give Len a help in the bar smartened themselves up after Rose had told them who was taking over—or who she thought was taking over,' she amended with quiet satisfaction.

She looked back at Jenny. 'What will you do, love?' she asked, then shook her head sadly. 'Young Malcolm was a good lad, but he hadn't his father's business sense. Happen you wouldn't be in this mess, else,' she added dolefully.

Jenny's eyes softened as they rested momentarily on the brown hair tinged with grey. Trust Dodie to understand how it was, never for one moment putting it down to Jenny's mismanagement, as Mark Chanter had, and no doubt a few of the younger staff. 'I can always go back to secretarial work, Dodie,' she replied with a smile. 'I can't say I was cut out to run a business. Besides, it will be nice not to be in the front line for a change, and let someone else do the worrying.'

Dodie eyed her thoughtfully, and nodded sagely.

`Aye, you've had your share of that, true enough. But you take a holiday first—I don't recall you taking one since you took over,' she advised Jenny sternly.

Having got that business out of the way, Jenny left it to Dodie to tell the rest of the staff of her decision to sell, for although Jenny ran the managerial side of things, Dodie had continued to manage the hotel staff, as she had done before Jenny had inherited the hotel.

Recalling what Dodie had said about Mark Chanter being the last person she would sell to, Jenny gave a small sigh of exasperation. Tony, it seemed, was not the only one who was of the opinion that she was still carrying a torch for Mark, and hadn't forgiven him for throwing her over. She hated to think what Dodie would have said if Mark had agreed to her terms and taken over the hotel. Very probably given her a lecture much on the same lines as Tony had, she thought wryly, and was relieved that Mark had not agreed to her terms, it had saved her a lot of explaining in the long run.

Having set things in motion, there was nothing more for Jenny to do but to sit back and await what she hoped would be an answer to her problems. She tried not to think ahead of what she would do after the hotel had been sold. Time enough for that when it happened, she told herself stoutly.

If she had had any qualms or second thoughts about taking such a step, these were soon dispelled by a letter from her solicitor advising her of the final settlement required in the dragged-out saga of the

travel agency. It was as she had feared, and as she had gloomily predicted to Tony, almost five thousand pounds. She had no choice now but to sell, and the appended message that advised her that she would be given reasonable time to settle the account came as cold comfort, but she was grateful all the same.

The reply Jenny had hoped to receive, came a fortnight later. There had been several interested replies to the advertisement, but none fitted the `tycoon' range she had set her heart on, and as she read the letter postmarked 'New York', her spirits rose higher than they had been for months.

Silas P. Hawter was, he informed her, a retired banker, and had been toying with the idea of buying such a property in England. His agent was at that moment in London, and would be getting in touch with Miss Grange directly. He went on to say that he had complete confidence in his agent's judgment and had given him the authority to close the deal should the premises be suitable for his requirements. He ended by saying that in the event of it being a successful transaction, he hoped to make a personal visit in due course of time.

Jenny's hand shook as she laid the letter down. Silas P. Hawter was tailor-made! just what she had hoped for, because what would a retired banker know of hotel management? She blinked as she touched the letter again, and felt like pinching herself to make certain she was not dreaming. Her eyes shone as she went over the possibilities such a transaction might bring in it's wake. There was a

tremendous possibility that the present staff would be kept on—perhaps she could stay, too?—she shook her head slowly. It would be enough if the staff could stay, she couldn't ask for more.

When she showed the letter to Tony later that day, she was exasperated by his lack of enthusiasm. 'He doesn't mention keeping it on as a hotel, does he?' he remarked gloomily. 'He might have other ideas, such as making it his private residence, so don't go getting excited about it,' he cautioned her.

Jenny gave him an impatient look, but after meeting his earnest brown eyes, gave a small smile. 'Well,' she conceded slowly, 'I suppose he might have something like that in mind, but he doesn't say that either, does he?' she appealed to him hopefully.

'Or,' added Tony darkly, 'He may want to turn the place into an exclusive gambling den. He might be working for a syndicate.'

Jenny's eyes widened at this and she stared at Tony. He wouldn't do that, surely? Her soft lips clamped together firmly. 'Then I shall refuse to sell,' she replied steadily. 'No matter how much he offers.' She gave Tony an accusing look. 'Now you've spoilt everything!' she complained. 'And I was so sure he was the answer to our problems.'